


Safe Place to Land

by chemicalburnfromthespiralperm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:59:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7321561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm/pseuds/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After retiring from hunting 22 years ago, Sam and Dean have to deal with their nest finally being empty.  There is literally no plot -- just happy times and fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Place to Land

**you say your heart is made of glass?   if you fall apart then I'll glue you back.  well, i'm made of paper mäché, and i'll blow away if i can't make you stay.**

The sun is poking through the blinds in just a way that when Dean looks at Sam with his eyes closed a little, Sam looks like the prince of sunshine. Dean leans against the door jam with his arms crossed over his chest and he just watches for a moment, because he never gets to do this.  It's not often that he catches Sam like this -- peaceful, resting, vulnerable.  He loves that Sam finally looks rested for once.  They've been married for 22 years, retired from hunting for just as long since their daughter was born but Sam still never stops.  Always going, always running, always taking care of everyone before he takes care of himself and Dean's sure he'll kill himself doing it... but at least right now he's asleep.

He's still got beautiful hair, only longer now, salt and pepper and tied into a loose knot on top of his head.  Little Calico, Sam's new puppy, is in his lap, guarding master while he sleeps.  The little fucker growls at him every time he goes near Sam.  Dean's ready to skin it.  Dean's looked old since he was 25, but Sam's only betrayal of age is his graying hair.  He still looks 30 and Dean could slap him for aging like a fine wine, but he's still beautiful.  Dean's little brother turned Dean's... whatever.  They both have rings on their fingers so it means something more.  Dean never would have left hunting if that pregnancy test hadn't turned their lives sideways.

That was 22 years ago.  Their anniversary is coming up.  They've got birthdays coming up, Sam's and Alana's, then Aaron's...  and then what?

"It feels like he never sleeps."

Dean jumps.  He's told her a thousand times not to sneak up on him.  She's like Sam, that way -- tall but agile.  Lithe like a cat.  She was always too good at that, sneakin' around.

"Ya," he says, scrubbing the back of his head.  "Where's your brother?"

Alana shrugs and for a second she looks exactly like Sam.  It makes Dean's heart hurt.

"Probably sneaking out.  Did you know they got a girlfriend?"

"Ya, Ashley or somethin'?  I don't know.  He -- _they_ don't talk much to us right now.  That whole 'I'm 18 and I hate my parents' thing.  I don't know.  It's breakin' Sam's heart.  We should move so we don't wake him up."

She smiles softly and follows him into the kitchen.  She's like Sam in that she needs to take care of people, so Dean doesn't tell her no when she sets a cup of coffee and a doughnut in front of him.

"You guys work too hard.  Daddy is always so tired."  She sighs softly, like she's trying to reason with herself, trying to explain away why her father is so tired all the time, and sits next to him at the breakfast bar with her own cup.  "You guys have been married a long time.  How did you know?"

Dean smiles behind his cup.

"The pregnancy test was positive."

"Dad!"  He doesn't hold in his laugh when she smacks him.  "I'm serious!"

"We grew up together.  It was when he was leaving to go to college that I just... I couldn't function without him.  He was 18 and I was your age and he needed to leave and I just... I had to relearn how to put my god damn pants on, Alana.  When he came back, I finally remembered how to breathe.  I never let go.  Sometimes you just know, and sometimes you have to lose them in order to realize it.  You lose them, and you gotta pray they're dumb enough to give you a second chance."

Alana doesn't say anything, but she raises her cup to her lips and takes a long sip.

"I hadn't thought of it that way."

"But you're gonna finish that damn degree before you even think about it, right?"

"Yes, father."

"Shaddap.  Now I'm being serious.  I don't want you thinkin' about any of that.  After Shayla?  You need a break.  You need to live on your own, get an apartment you can't afford, come home and use our washer and dryer, let us make dinner for you.  I don't care.  But you need a break."

The silence falls between them again.  Alana and Dean had never been as close as Alana and Sam -- she was Sam's first, and Sam's best friend, and he's okay with that because she's their daughter and, really, they're exactly the fuckin' same.  Giant nerds who love to read and would rather watch WWII documentaries than the car shows Dean and Aaron would rather watch.  He's closer with Aaron, but loves both of them more than he's ever loved anything in his life.  His children, who are now grown.  Too grown for Dean to handle.  This giant house that he and Sam built from the ground up was soon going to be too big for just the two of them.  They'd talked about selling the house but when the kids caught wind, that idea was long gone.

"I grew up watching you guys," she says, pulling Dean from his reverie.  "I think you guys thought you kept the fighting quieter than you did, but we always knew.  It wasn't your fault, but the thing that was most amazing to us?  To me?  You always kissed each other after.  Didn't matter how angry or what you were fighting about.  Daddy always managed to pull you in for a kiss, even if you were so angry you wanted to hate him.  And you always let him."

"When you've been together as long as me and your daddy have, it doesn't matter what you're fightin' about.  Just because you're fighting doesn't mean you don't love each other.  It was when he got pregnant with you that we knew we had to take this seriously.  Got married.  Got a real house.  Real jobs.  It was fuckin' hard, but your daddy worked way too hard to be this tired all the time.  I don't know why he does that to himself.  We've got plenty of money for once, nothing to stress about."

Alana shrugs again.  "He loves us.  He's got to take care of us."

"You could take care of him and cook dinner tonight?"

"Dad's favorite.  No problem.  I think Aaron's trying to call me, though.  He might need a ride.  I'll be right back."

Alana stalks out of the room and she leaves her warmth with Dean.  He's grateful, endlessly, for everything Sam has given him.  They're soulmates first, husbands second and brothers third.  Everything else comes after that.  

Dean owns a mechanic's shop that pulls in great revenue -- he's got great guys working for him that do good work and don't rip people off.  They're honest and that's how Dean built his clientele.  He's never been smart, which is why the car thing comes in handy.  Sam's the genius, the lawyer, the one that went to college and finally got the degree that was robbed of him 13 years later.  They're happy.  Safe.  Dean still has his phones and he still answers them, puts men on cases and makes sure people don't die, all out of the office of his shop.  Sam helps, too, research and the like.  He built a huge database of every monster and menace they've ever encountered and exactly how to kill them, and is adding to it every day.

But then Dean looks up from his coffee and over at the last family pictures they took and wonders when the hell they got into this apple pie life.  Who let them have it?  Who decided it was time for the Winchesters to stop being dead meat?

Sam surprises him in much the same way Alana did, but this was different.  Sam presses a kiss to the top of Dean's head, and then to his lips when Dean looks up to see who his offender is.  He doesn't even need to make sure it's Sam, he can tell by the weight of his lips and the way Sam smiles when Dean deepens the kiss.

"Your breath is awful."

"You still kissed me anyway.  Where are the kids?"

"Alana is taking a phone call from Aaron, who apparently needs a ride home after sneaking off with their girlfriend.  Their.  They.  Them."

"Oh, hon."  Sam gives him a crooked smile and kisses Dean's head one last time before going to make his own cup of coffee.  "You'll get used to it.  Aaron knows that you're trying, and honest to God, I think they're more relieved that you're supportive than anything.  I mean, we've seen what happens to kids to who don't have that kind of support.  They were probably scared."

"I don't understand parents that can do that.  I don't give a flying fuck if our kids want to transition into werewolves!  They're still the same people?  They're still the kids we raised?  Pisses me off.  If I can make my kid's life by stumbling over my words for a while until I get used to it, shit.  I'd take a fuckin' bullet for them a thousand times if it would get them to crack a smile."

Sam just smiles at him in that knowing way.

"You don't have to prove it to me, big guy.  You've been taking care of me my whole life."

"Is that why you've made it your mission to take care of me and the kids until you drop?"

"No clue what you're talking about."  Sam takes a sip of his coffee, and Dean finally reaches out and makes grabby hands for his husband.  "Nope.  Coffee.  Mmm.  Alana makes better coffee than you.  She brews it with love."

"She pours water in the spout and turns it on!"

"Ya, with love!"

He manages to grab Sam by his shirt and drag him over until he falls into Dean's laps, strong thighs straddling Dean's, obviously favoring the bad hip he got on one of the last hunts they went on before they found out Sam was pregnant.  It always acts up during the summer, maybe arthritis, but Dean massages Sam's hip anyway.  Sam sighs softly, rests easy against the breadth of Dean.  At 55, Sam is still a golden God, the king of sunshine, a fucking miracle in this dark world...  but he's gorgeous and Dean loves him anyway.  He's gorgeous and he still kisses Dean every morning.  Dean's old and gray and almost fat and Sam still looks at him like he's the hottest thing he's ever seen.  He doesn't know how he earned this.

"You're thinking way too hard."

"Ya, about why you love me so much."

Sam shrugs.  "You still have a tight ass."

Dean actually laughs, an open mouthed laugh into Sam's chest where he rests his head and he's grateful that for a few more moments, Sam is resting.

"Ya, I remember when I asked you to marry me, I also asked if you'd still love me when I was 60.  Looks like you still do."

"Either way, I'd have to deal with you for the rest of my life, so I kind of had to learn to live with you.  We've got two kids.  I also, like...  love you.  So there's that.  I mean, however you want to look at it.  I do love you.  It took us having a kid for you to be okay saying that to me, but it was worth it.  Ya?"

"Ya.  I love you."

Sam grins, wide and warm, sunshine spreading through his whole body.  Dean likes Sam's gray hair, likes the crinkles around Sam's eyes, the freckles that have developed with age.  Dean loves everything about Sam.  There's a reason they're soulmates, he guesses.

"You gonna be okay?"

Sam shrugs, leans down and kisses Dean again.

"I hope so."

The front door slams open and two laughing kids who aren't kids anymore come barreling through the door.  Dean doesn't bother to listen for what they're laughing at -- for all they know it could be about them, so Dean's just glad they're laughing for once and not fighting.  Aaron comes in the kitchen first, not even batting an eye at their fathers' position, sprawled across each other and happy.  They're holding two huge envelopes.

"I think I got accepted to college, you guys."

Sam is out of Dean's lap and in Aaron's arms in half a second, the fastest he's seen Sam move in years, laughing and jumping for joy.

"Northwestern and Stanford, right?!"

"Ya, now let me go so I can open it!"

A hush settles over the kitchen as Aaron opens their letters.  Dean takes his place behind Sam, hands resting on his hips, and they all watch as papers crinkle.  Aaron takes a deep breath...  and hands the letter over to Sam.

"I can't do it, daddy.  You gotta read it for me.  I can't.  It's your alma mater.  Please?"  Dean sees a nervous eight year old instead of a grown 18 year old.

"Of course, son.  Either way, you're still loved."  Sam takes the paper with shaky hands and Dean catches a flash of the words before Sam clears his throat to read.  "Dear Mr. Winchester: I am pleased to inform you that your application for admission for Fall 2038 has been favorably reviewed by our Admissions Committee!"  It takes not even a second for all four of them to lose their minds.  

That's three generations of Winchesters -- Sam, Alana and now Aaron -- that will have been accepted to Stanford University.  There are tears in Dean's eyes.  He never got to go to college, but his entire family is going to go.  What a fucking honor.

"Okay, do we open the other one?"

Aaron laughed briefly before going silent for a moment.  They look between their parents and their sister and shakes their head.

"No.  I'm going to Stanford.  Pre-law, just like dad."

Sam is openly weeping at this point, and he gets pulled into a crushing hug by their son.  Dean wants nothing but for his children to be happy.  Stanford is a long ways away from Louisiana, but Dean would drive these kids to Hell and back to make them happy.

The kitchen is glaringly quiet as both kids traipse up the stairs to their respective bedrooms.  It's too quiet in here now, an empty echo of the laughter of their children, a silent longing toward the days when two actual children were running through this place.  The silence aches in between their bones, a foreboding whisper of what's to come.  Alana is going off to med school, Aaron off to pre-law.  This house will be too big and Sam will cry and Dean won't know what to do, and maybe he'll cry and have a midlife crisis that worries Sam because all Dean will do is ride a motorcycle to shitty dive bars with woman an 8th of his age and Sam will wonder if Dean is cheating and the kids will wonder if they're getting divorced, only you can't divorce your own brother, and that's when Dean's fantasy goes sideways because sometimes he forgets that they aren't a normal family.

Alana and Aaron know more than they should.  Alana has the family tattoo on her shoulder and Aaron's will go on their wrist and both of their college friends will wonder why they have so much salt in the cabinets and why they aren't allowed to move the weird rocks by the door.

"They're both gonna be gone, Dean."

Sam's words rattle him.  Dean didn't even remember what he did without Sam for those four long years, maybe he blacked out because it hurt so bad, and he wonders if his children are as close as he and Sam are.

He hopes not.

"Ya, ya they are.  We gotta...  I gotta get you a hobby, man.  Maybe you need to go back to work.  I don't know.  I don't want you spiraling."

Sam rolls his eyes, but he doesn't protest because he knows Dean is right.

"Did you...  did you ever --   _think_?  We've got kids.  We were stupid one time, and now we have the life we always wanted to have.  We go to barbecues, Dean.  You're on the neighborhood watch.  We have a storage unit full of baby furniture that we're never going to use again."

"Hey!  We're saving the crib for Alana!  And Aaron wouldn't let us get rid of any of his legos!"

"That's my point, Dean.  We have the life we wanted.  Exactly the life we wanted.  And nothing happened.  No one came for us.  No one hunted us and no one hunted our children.  My office is Men of Letter's hub number one, and we're still okay."

Dean looks up at Sam and lets them sit in the silence for a moment.

"Maybe...  maybe we pick it up again.  Maybe we start again, small stuff.  Vengeful spirits, ghouls...  Hauntings, poltergeists, anything.  Just little stuff."

"Do you really want to go back to hunting?  We got out, Dean.  No one does that."

At least Sam doesn't look disgusted.  He looks more perked up than Dean expected him to be.

"I don't know.  I... think about.  Maybe once they go off to college, we...  take a vacation.  We go off on our own.  Actually go to the grand canyon.  Disneyland.  Vegas week!  I don't care."

The sun sets and Dean is grateful that there's life in his kitchen.  Sam is cutting the chicken, Aaron is snapping green beans and Alana is peeling potatoes.  Dean sits in his chair because they insisted -- Dad cooked yesterday, so now it's everyone else's turn.  Dean's honestly a little surprised to see Sammy cooking, especially because he's got two left feet when it comes to butter knives verses a steak knife, but the children help and laugh when he does things wrong.

Pasta is boiling over on the stove and Alana is frantically scanning a recipe to see where they're going wrong.  Dean's just happy to have the chance to watch his family.  He wonders if John and Mary would be proud, even with the circumstances.  Would they look at him and Sam and not blame them for what happened?  Two people raised in those kinds of circumstances wouldn't really have a choice.  Who else could possibly understand?  God made them soulmates - it's not their fault it turned into more.  Dean's heart swells even looking at his family, what he and Sam have created.  Dean doesn't care that those children barely look like him.  They have Sam's eyes, god, those kaleidoscope eyes, and his nose and chin.  They're almost carbon copies, especially Aaron.  Alana looks just like Mary with her blonde hair and green eyes, and it makes Dean feel so warm and content.

"Aaron, don't!  That's not supposed to go in yet!"

"I'm just following your shitty directions!"

"Whoa, language!  Just because your sister is giving shitty directions, doesn't mean you have to say it out loud!"

"Dad!"

Dean smiles fondly.  Sam narrowly dodges a wayward pasta noodle hurled at him by one of his children, and Dean just smiles.

The nest might be empty, but at least the love will never fade.


End file.
